


Sloppy Seconds

by freshywritescrap (freshiewrites)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based off a song, Death, Framed for murder, Im not sure yet, M/M, Melancholy, Not Beta Read, Possible Smut?, Roadtrips, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Taking a turn into sad tiems, and thats all that matters, but they love each other - Freeform, come join me in this ride into sadness, did i say angst, got this idea from a severe vibe, hard angst, not MCD, they're in a bad place and things are fucking terrible, this is a very vibey fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26076301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshiewrites/pseuds/freshywritescrap
Summary: I don't care, where you've been, how many milesI still love you
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 17





	1. Tie Die Shirts

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys i got this vibe for a fic based off the song Sloppy Seconds by Watsky? and it just gave me the strongest spicyhoney vibes
> 
> Sheewolf has already written her version of the vibes, go read it here cause its a lot better!!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072014
> 
> enjoy ^^ mind the tags!!

He was pretty sure that the lack of coffee in the house was a crime against monsterdom. Sure, they hadn’t had actual, good, non-instant from the Dollar General coffee in a long time, but he could remember what it tasted like. 

Silky smooth, generally. Darker than his soul, and that was saying something.

War changed a man. Being sent home because his superior officer was misconducting himself in a disgusting way changed him even more. 

No one had believed him. He was a lowly soldier, a monster at that, who already had LV from the younger years. He’d enlisted to make difference and the only difference it had ended up making was that it was much harder to get jobs and keep them, now.

The quiet shuffling of blankets behind him made Edge turned just enough to look back at Stretch frown deepening at the dark circles under his lover’s eyes. There was little he could do about it anymore; whether Stretch got enough sleep at night was a toss up to the Fates. Lately, it was becoming more and more likely that they were fixing the odds. 

Edge turned back to the window, the sticky, warm air flowing in from outside making him wish more than anything that he’d make enough money next paycheck to get them a box fan.

Taking a drag from the cigarette that dangled from his fingers, Edge stared out into the night, their relative height in a trashed up apartment gifting him the view of a city that couldn’t care less about their existence.

His LV roiled at the thought, reminding him just why he was sitting there, chain smoking instead of going out and getting drunk. (Instead of going out to find someone to get in a fight with. Preferably some piece of trash he wouldn’t feel bad about taking down a peg or two. Still, he wasn’t picky, not when he got like this.)

Stretch mumbled in his sleep, reaching out with blind hands, and Edge took a final drag, finishing the cig with a deep breath and grinding it out before smoothly sliding into bed. Stretch was instantly in his arms, head tucking under Edge’s chin as he settled comfortably. As much as he could, anyways, Edge knew his bones ran a little more sharp than the softer skeletons. 

He still didn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep as he held the one thing he cared about close to his soul, close enough he could feel Stretch’s soul calling out to his own, asking for comfort when Edge couldn’t give any.

Instead he began to hum, something old and nonsensical, something that settled the call of Stretch’s soul as well as the dreams that seemed to plague his nights. 

Edge had held him through more than one night terror, keeping his hands away from his face, away from his arms. Clawing hands that had left more than one scar on Edge himself, but as much as Stretch exuded guilt the morning after, cleaning them up with a ratty wash cloth and helping Edge bandage them up, Edge never minded them.

They were proof he could help. Even if the night terrors never stopped, and even if Stretch never really forgave himself for them.

Sighing, Edge stared at the wall, counting the cracks in his head as he tried to calm down enough to sleep… only to remember just why his LV was so riled up. 

It’d just been a family. In the park, walking by on his break. He worked at the local music shop, the guitars and constant soothing music a balm to his soul. He always spent his breaks in the park just a five minute walk away, and today had been no different.

He hadn’t expected the father to smack the child. The mother hadn’t seemed surprised, had even chastised the poor kid, who looked like they were trying hard not to cry.

Edge hadn’t even known he’d stood until he was in the father’s face, barking out just how vile it was to strike your own child… which had caused a scene. The police had been called because of a few choice words that had spewed from Edge’s mouth like venom, and he’d been detained until nearly 10 that night, the questions and such making sure he wasn’t a danger to himself or anyone else before they’d let him go home.

Edge blinked, blinked back the tears that threatened to form as he thought about Stretch, the tears in his own eyes and dried tracks on his face a testament to how scared he’d been that, this time… this time Edge wouldn’t come back.

He couldn’t do that to him. Had nightmares about it, waking up gasping for air and choking on his own fear. 

No, he would never do that to his Stretch, his love, his everything. 

Closing his eyes, he could only pray that he would never be put in the position that his promise would be tested.


	2. Backpack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo a chapter for this, for the end of the year :D
> 
> warnings for blatant racism, money anxiety, panic attacks, police involvement (tell me if i should add anymore!)
> 
> enjoy??

It was a mostly quiet day, that morning. The sky was gray, but the rain hadn’t started yet, leaving Stretch to gather his saved cloth bags and his grocery list and head out to face the day. There were few people out on the streets that early, what with everyone who was already awake at work and those who weren’t, still asleep in their warm beds.

Stretch’s bed had been a little too warm, what with their lack of fan and the sticky sweat that came with the summer time heat waves. They’d left their window open at night, a dangerous event in their neighborhood, hoping that with the extra air flow that things would cool off. They’d been wrong, and had almost lost their only radio because of it.

Some random kid finding open windows in a rough neighborhood, sneaking around and getting caught by the only monster on the block that wouldn’t beat the snot out of them. They should have considered themself lucky, instead of cussing them both out and getting thrown out the front door once Edge’s patience had snapped. 

No one had attempted it again, after that, but Stretch couldn’t help but sleep shallow, unwilling to let someone break into their home and wake up to his own death.

Edge felt much the same, and always firmly locked the window every morning with a magic pulse that would burn anyone who touched it, even Stretch. He trusted him, but he also didn’t have full control over his magic anymore, not with how high his LV was. They shared cigarettes in the mornings, something that Edge would have never done before his stint in the military. Stretch shuddered to think what would have been so fucking horrible.

But right now he was on a mission, and that mission was getting food and supplies with the allotment of money that Edge had been able to scrape up for that week’s groceries. 

He made it to the store easily enough, only a few humans giving him sideways glances but none of them stupid enough to say anything. Once inside he took a cart, setting his backpack with all their money and his own cards and phone inside the basket. Carefully making his way down the aisles, Stretch checked his list before getting anything off the shelf, keeping a tab of the money spent in his head as well as on the margins of the paper. 

He’d nearly reached the end of his trip, heading to the front cashiers to check out, when an employee called out to him, rushing over with a red face.

“Sir, I need you to empty your bag.”

Stretch stared at him. He’d been to this store a million times, and they’d never asked him to empty his damn bag.

“Why?” was all he could say, nearly fearfully as the employee puffed up.

“We have video evidence of you stuffing unbought goods into your backpack, sir. Please empty it right now and we won’t press charges.”

Stretch felt his chest constricting, his eyes growing blurry as he tried to keep his words together. “I didn’t take anything, a-all of my stuff is in the cart, I just-”

The employee then made to grab for his bag, and Stretch went into a full panic, grabbing his bag and shouldering it before taking several steps away from the man. He was yelling now, incomprehensible words that left Stretch wheezing on his own breaths.

It took nearly 20 minutes for the police to arrive, one of them sitting Stretch down and getting him to breathe more easily before they asked to see into his bag. They couldn’t press charges unless he’d actually done it, right?

So Stretch let them see the inside of the damn bag, proving that he didn’t have any stashed goodies anywhere. They then checked his pockets, both in his jacket and in his pants, then the inside of his shoes whenever the manager of the store had decided he didn’t believe that Stretch hadn’t actually stolen anything.

The police had given him all of his things back (he’d made sure, counting every bill of money and every card in his wallet, as well as checking for his phone), before telling him the fantastic news that he’d been banned from the store.

He’d almost fought that. Had he not been shaking still from his panic attack, he might have even let off a few choice words for the racist employee that had started this whole mess, staring at him from the sidelines with a satisfied smirk. 

Instead, he headed out, the police watching him as he headed down the block, and once their eyes were off of him he took a short cut straight home, landing on the lumpy ass couch to cry his soul out.

Things just… weren’t fair. They’d been great before Edge had left for war, before he’d returned with several new shiny LV and a pair of dog tags that proclaimed him as “dishonorably discharged” for something he’d done right. Before they’d moved out here for a second chance, away from the peaceful suburbs that his brother lived in. 

Somehow… things had only gotten worse. He told Blue the opposite, when he called. Never ever told him the truth, that he and Edge were struggling and that was the truth plain and simple, but. Something always kept the words from leaving his mouth. He didn’t want to worry his brother, who’d been against them leaving in the first place.

“Edge needs to heal, and you need to be there to help him. Where better than here?” Blue had said, and Stretch had thrown nasty words he hadn’t meant in his brother’s face before leaving and never looking back.

He looked back now. Now as Edge burst into the home, slamming the door shut, his eyelights a bright crimson and the anger in his expression palpable and Stretch couldn’t take looking at him anymore. He was on his feet, ignoring Edge’s sudden concerned call, and into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

He couldn’t do this anymore. Collapsing on the bed, Stretch began to cry once more, wishing to any star that would listen that something would give, that something would change.

It was perhaps a foolish wish to make when desperate.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, consider leaving a comment!!


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